AN EXPRESSION OF SELF


A handful of soil
Slowly pouring back to the earth
This is her life she believes
To question now, where as before she existed

The field wide and open before her
Her age no longer feels relevant
Answers elusive and confusing
The sun uncovered by clouds passing

When did it all begin to change
A step taken, a thought forgotten
She bends down to the ground
Studying the grass, its blades so fragile

Her hair falls onto her face
Covering her eyes
Is this what I see
Distortion filtered through strands

Still the light shines brightly
No darkness or lack of hope
Another handful of soil
This time holding it tightly into a clump

Solid in form, with texture soft
No sound as she drops it
A test of reality, where none is tangible
A step forward and hills appear

Climb or be crushed by non-action
Soar inward into her imagination
Restrictions of mind and place
Where to now she asks

No response, quiet
Has she known touch and love
Blinding nothingness save a thought
Hold on to it

Warmth, finally a sensation
Concrete in its being
Full circle in essence
She is not more or less than a self-expression

Michael V Hechtman Copyright@2000